imprints

thursday

I was a little tense from the anticipation of possibly seeing my stalker in the flesh and also wondering who would show up... Eve called and asked if Gwen was going... When I said that I wasn't sure Eve said that she was going to bring a male friend... She wanted to know if it was OK with me and of course I said it was...

I showed up with my gear, ready to rumble, to be drunk and high and ornery, to shed the skin I wear for public sake and collapse inside my own soul, then wring it out and flail it in the great wide open like laundry ready for the line...

I doped up in the car with my guitarist's girlfriend and when we exited the vehicle I ran into The Wolf, freshly shaved and dressed in retro-plaid... He was ready to howl, his drums already stashed inside, and his face was expectant, also anticipating-- in his case the arrival of his latest flame, a sultry and successful fashion designer with worldly airs and a wild partying streak...

I joined Eve and Laurie and Daniel inside the bar, sitting at a table drinking their drinks... A punk trio blared malevolently, playing Misfits covers and summoning the gods of trash... they left the stage and a cover group fronted by two skanky-looking women jumped on and let loose with some estrogen-fueled garage rock... At one point one of the singers announced that it was the other's birthday, making her a Scorpio in my mind... The singer asked who would buy her a drink and when no one responded I was tempted to jump in for pity's sake... Luckily, Eve (impulsive and on cue) came to the rescue and offered up her bar tab... Later on the cover group challenged the club to name the tune they were going to play-- it was "Big Black Monsoon" by PJ Harvey... When the song was done I claimed the prize: a free Newcastle and a sloppy kiss on the cheek...

Then I saw The Shark walk into the club... Hadn't seen him all year and I was surprised he even showed up at all... At first my mind was like Damn of all the nights he had to come but then I saw him speaking cheerily with Eve and Laurie and I sighed in relief... That was my only concern, that no petty dramas would inform the evening with ill feelings and unwanted confrontations...

We went on and played our set... We knocked the regulars on their asses... I jumped around like a Mexcian Jumping Bean and even fell into my amp during the last song and played for a minute while lying on my back against the frame... I came close to falling off the stage a few times but since the stage is half a foot off the level ground it made no difference... Someone moshing up front accidentally unplugged my guitarist's amp but he caught it quickly and nothing came of it... Our singer knocked a mic stand down and I was so in-the-moment that I had to fight the urge to knock all the mic stands down as a sign of commitment to the cause of destroying eardrums and equilibriums...

In the afterglow I received accolades and stood outside enjoying a cigarette with Sharky and Eve and Laurie and The Wolf and some of the club hangers-on, some of whom were impressed by our energy-- not necessarily our songs, but the pure energy --and I met Eve's friend and helped him shop a demo to my guitarist who works at the club as a promoter during the week... Since it was a weeknight everyone had to go home but Sharky and I had some catching up to do so we drove to Denny's...

Gwen never showed up and neither did my stalker...

In the parking lot of Denny's at 3am a woman in her forties asked me to give her a ride to Sherman Oaks... Normally I would but I was one block away from Denny's and I was already late... I didn't know what to tell her because the drive would be longer than expected and I really wanted to talk to Sharky again... She saw my bloodshot eyes and surmised that I'd been drinking and told me that it was okay-- she would hail a cab... I told her if she was still wiating by the time I finished with my meal that I would give her a ride but when we were through she had left...

Sharky and I talked all night... He is in a better place now and the both of us have moved past the bullshit... One thing that I did notice was that I have less patience for his lengthy screeds... I just wish he was better and quicker at getting to the point he wants to make... He probably notices that I am less receptive and probably attributes that to whatever reason but it doesn't kill the fact that he has been a good friend to me over the years and obviously any damage that was done has healed over and ceased to sting like it used to...


friday


I slept for three hours then made the trek to Lancaster to meet my family for our trip to Carpinteria... It seemed almost a shame for me to drive all that way because the route they take goes all the way back down to Santa Clarita... I could have just stopped at a Park 'N' Ride and left my car there all weekend...

My older brother was in a terrible mood and whenever he is like that he picks on me because it's easy to get me riled up... I think that he thinks I am an angry person but really it's only him and my father who push my buttons... my sister never grates on me, my younger brothers are respectful enough to me, my mother and stepfather are always good-natured, even my sister-in-law and my brother's friends are more understanding...

My brother and I were already in an argument by the time night fell on Friday... Tellingly, he sent his friend Sam over to me to bring me back into the camp circle so that he wouldn't have to be the one to apologize... Sam and I snuck away and smoked some weed and eventually I mellowed out and returned to the camp...


saturday


In the morning we ate breakfast and showered and I walked over to the beach and watched the waves and it made an imprint on my own brain... I wanted to remember the sight of the coast, the dolphins crowning their heads above the water, the overcast misty haze and the ships off the shoreline... I wanted to have the crashing tides etched into my memory so that I could return home and paint them...

I read a book about the Black Dahlia murder of 1947 written by a former LAPD detective who thinks that his own father may have been the grisly suspect in one of the most famous unsolved murders in L.A. history... I related to the horror of discovering the true nature of a trusted family member juxtaposed against the sad symbolism of the Black Dahlia herself... Like the disposable wasted hundreds in Juarez whose blood cries out from the earth where it has spilled, Elizabeth Short is a victim of the modern male tendency to ravish and rape and consider women to be nothing but receptacles and objects to be degraded and humiliated...

I thought of Sophie-- my own Black Dahlia --a mystery fated to never be solved, pieces scattered that have no relation to each other... What happened to her? Who killed her in my soul? Is she still alive? And where is she, should she still walk this earth? Did I ever matter to her? It would nice to think that the man she most likely has settled down with and wed might resemble me in some way shape or form... That's what kills me, I have decided: not knowing if I made an impact or an impression, an imprint...

I walked the dunes of the beach, looking back behind me every so often to see my footsteps embossed in the sand...

Night fell again and this time no spats with my older sibling... The ringing bell of the passing train every two hours lent a doleful air to the evening, but we laughed and drank and talked away into the night, loudly blaring music and sharing memories... This was a fine moment for me and my family and I was satisfied knowing that the entire trip would not be spent being spiteful and mean...


sunday


Sunday morning was glorious and tentative: packing away the tents, cleaning up the mess, throwing the last logs onto the campfire... One more rift between my brother and I followed bya degree of silence... I made one last pilgrimage to the sea and realized that my brother treats me like a little boy while my father leans on me too much and makes me feel like I am his father... neither person treats me like the man that I am at this moment... I think of Eve and how she told me I am two people: a little boy and an old man... And I think that this is the reason why I am split this way inside...

I spent time with my niece and nephew whom I don't get to see very often and it's just as well... 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'... They are beautiful children who need protection from a predatory world that wishes to swallow them up into its endless belly... I see hope and optimism and a bright future in their hearts, in their pure souls, their giddy laughter and their lust for life... They're innocent lambs whose lives have not even begun... They need a shepherd not a savior, they need guidance and attention and love and instruction... I wonder if I will ever leave an imprint on them and I have to conclude that, yes, I do... Yes, I matter to them... Yes, they would miss me if I never came back to them... All I have to do is make sure that I am still around for them... All I have to do is stay alive and pay heed to their cries...

The drive back was lovely, dream-like... I slept through most of it... The moments when I wasn't sleeping allowed me to finish the Black Dahlia book... We got home and relaxed for a spell before beginning the arduous task of unpacking the truck... Sunday also happened to be my mother's birthday and we gave her presents and told her how much we love and respect her... Then I made the drive back home in the early evening...

I got home and Eve had left me numerous messages concerning plans for dinner with Laurie and Daniel... She made me feel special but I was careful not to express this glee... Instead I let her pick me up and we drove over there and spent the evening watching a scary movie and drinking...

Eve drove me home afterwards and I got a late-night phone call from The Wolf... We talked about the show on Thursday and how great we felt afterwards... We had our usual chat and then, around 2am, the both of us agreed to get off the phone...

I fed my cats and went to sleep and dreamed of the beach scene that I studied so intently over the weekend, the notion of Mother Ocean, applying layers of paint in the forms of the symbols in my head... the tragic Dahlia... Sophia... Adam & Eve... my mother's birthday and the celebration... a hum of feminine energy growling in my chest and vibrating in my loins... an understanding of where I am positioned in relation to my art, the rest of the world, my own self...

I left so many imprints on that sand...